


The Broken Hallelujah

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Bitterness, Emotional Healing, F/M, Happy Ending?, Hurt/Comfort, Past Drug Addiction, Reluctant Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:59:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Alex resigns from the BAU, it's the last straw for Spencer. So he decides to go back to the beginning, no matter how much Elle might not want him there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McCatry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McCatry/gifts).



Taos was warm in June.

Spencer had realized halfway through his conversation with Alex that it would probably be one of the last times he saw her, and when he found her credentials tucked into his satchel he'd realized he was right. She stayed long enough to wrap up some loose ends and say her goodbyes to the rest of the team. She'd even asked him to call her long-distance if he wanted to talk, that she'd like to keep up with how he was doing. But he knew it would never be the same.

He didn't know why it was Elle he wanted to see. It had been eight years since she'd turned in her resignation and then disappeared from his life without so much as a 'So long.' But then again, she had been the first person to leave, even before Gideon did. Maybe he just wanted to bring it full circle.

So he'd asked Garcia - begged her, actually - to do some checking and try to locate her. And not to tell Hotch. Aaron would have been furious if he'd known he wanted to see her. He never mentioned Elle's name again after she left, at least not in Spencer's presence, so he apparently considered her _persona non grata_. Either it hadn't been sufficient that she'd been cleared in that shooting, or he had just decided to write her off.

"Reid, _please_ tell me what's going on," Garcia had said when she'd come by his apartment. "Why is it so important to look up Elle Greenaway after all this time? I'm sure she's forgotten all about us, or at least moved on." She'd been biting her lip as she hovered near his bookshelves, looking at the titles lined up there without really seeing them. The last time Spence had been acting so squirrelly, it had been because of the drugs. "I'm _worried_ about you, honey!"

"I know you are, Garcia. But don't be. I just...this is something I need to do."

It turned out that Elle owned and operated a bookstore and cafe called Page Turners. It was an independent store rather than part of a chain, but he'd found several online articles about it, and she seemed to be doing well for herself. He'd found a newish picture of her. Her hair was longer, long enough to braid, but it was still recognizably Elle. He wondered how much older she'd look in person. Something told him she wouldn't be happy to see him. He didn't even know how he'd start trying to have a conversation yet.

He'd checked into his room at the Quality Inn, then gone right back out again. He hadn't shaved, but he'd showered before leaving D.C. He wanted, _needed_ , to see her before he lost his nerve. Even if she told hm to go to hell, which was the likeliest thing, this had become a fixation of sorts. Spencer rubbed his stubbly jaw, looked at himself in the mirror of his rental car. He looked older, even to his own eyes. He looked a little tired, a little haunted. Would she recognize him?

The building that housed the store had a patio where chairs and tables were arranged, and people sat outside talking and enjoying the day. Spencer crossed the lot, feeling the heat from the asphalt through the soles of his shoes. He stepped inside. The air conditioning was on. He was carrying the picture in the inside pocket of his lightweight jacket. Elle wasn't in sight. He went over to the counter of the adjoining cafe and ordered a fruit smoothie. The barista gave him a grateful smile when he put an extra dollar fifty into the jar marked 'Tips'. 

The profiler took an inconspicuous seat inside, deciding that if she saw him, that might be the best way to get her to acknowledge him. There were bits of strawberry at the bottom of his plastic cup, and he poked his straw between them to keep them from getting stuck inside it. His satchel was close by, at his feet. The chair was comfortable.

It took Spencer a good twenty minutes to finish his beverage, and he'd glance around now and then to see if he could spot her. When he reached the dregs of the smoothie, he got up from the chair and looked for the nearest trash can. After he tossed the cup inside, he took a look towards the counter.

And there she was.

Her hair was the same dark brown, done in a braid that reached her shoulder blades. She was wearing a colorful shirt and loose-fitting pants A piece of turquoise dangled from a leather thong around her neck. Spencer smiled a little, realizing she didn't look _that_ much older after all.

He approached the counter one step at a time, hands going into his pockets. He'd dressed for the weather, in a polo shirt and jeans. His cross-trainers were brand new. The other barista had ether taken a break or was in the back tending to something else. Elle was pouring tea into a tall plastic cup, putting ice in it. He waited. His mouth was dry. What did you say to a person you hadn't spoken to in eight years?

"What can I get...you."

All conscious thought abandoned Spencer as their eyes locked. He'd been a gangly kid when they'd met, awkward and tongue-tied. He still had moments like that, times when he couldn't speak coherently. It was one of the reasons he'd been hesitant to meet Maeve at first, and that was something he still regretted with an ache that was occasionally physical. Phantom pain. His mouth tried to smile, but the attempt didn't make it to his eyes.

"Hi."

And then she turned around and walked away from the counter. He heard her call, "Ruth! Get this guy's order, I'm going into the office for a few minutes." Before Spencer could protest, or even speak, she was gone, leaving him standing there. Around him, the noise rose and fell in a murmuring wave. The first woman he'd placed his order with appeared, wiping her hands on a white cloth. 

"Hi, hon, you want another of those strawberry deals?"

"Yes, please," Spencer answered in a muted voice. He'd felt the recognition in Elle's eyes, and then the rejection when she turned away. His stomach was somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. He made a mental grab for it, looked for his resolve. He needed to see this through.

To find the pieces of himself and put them back together now that yet another person had left him behind.


	2. Chapter 2

No. No, no, no, no, no. That was _not_ Spencer Reid out there.

Elle had retreated into the office, then locked the door behind her. As if he might try to follow her in here if she didn't. She had her back pressed to the flat surface, aligning her spine with the wood. One hand lifted, and she touched the piece of turquoise around her neck as if it were a talisman. 

She hadn't recognized him at first. Eight years was a long time. And then she'd looked beneath the scruff and the dark circles under his eyes and the nearly visible fatigue that hung over him like a cloud, and there was Spencer staring down at her. Goofy, funny Spence with his big, scary mind. The proverbial baby of the family.

 _Some family_.

But of all the pieces of her old life, of all the people in that old life, why did it have to be Reid showing up? Hotch she could have handled. Gideon? She probably would have told him to get the fuck out of her place before she shot _him_ next. No one trusted a crazy lady after she'd killed once. Not even if the Feds cleared her.

Elle stiffened her posture. She'd done what she'd had to, and nearly a decade later she still didn't regret it. If she hadn't pulled the trigger, William Lee would have gone on to rape again, and it was her fault he'd walked in the first place. She didn't intend to do it again, which was what separated her from him. She'd just...corrected the situation.

So fuck them. She'd been cleared, and she'd resigned on her own terms. When she turned in her badge and gun to Aaron, she'd refused to admit guilt, saying that she was just resigning to make things easier on him. And none of them had bothered to track her down after she left. She'd dropped out of their lives and none of them had noticed.

So fuck them. Fuck Hotch and Gideon and Spencer with his sad puppy dog eyes. Eight years of silence was too long to fill the gap, repair the breach. She had moved on, built something new. Made a new life. Elle let go of the pendant around her neck. It had grown warm because she'd held it for so long. She felt stronger, calmer. Colder.

The door's lock made a snicking sound as she disengaged it, and the ex-profiler stepped out of the confines of her office. Her shoulders were squared, her back straight. If Reid was still out there, she was going to avoid him. There was no law that said she _had_ to acknowledge his presence. It could be a form of karmic payback. 

She didn't want him here. At all. But just because he was, she didn't _have_ to do anything.


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer showed up every day for a week, and every day for a week Elle ignored him as if he wasn't there. She refused to wait on him at the counter, and she left it to someone else to field his questions about books. Every time he seemed even remotely close to approaching her, she'd manufacture a reason to be somewhere else, but she kept her silence. Her hope was that if she declined to speak to him for long enough, he'd go away and leave her alone.

Her cold anger was fully matched by his stubborn insistence. He'd known his presence would be a painful reminder for her, a memory of a time in her life she might have tried to bury. And yes, if things hadn't become so bleak he probably wouldn't have sought her out at all. He wasn't trying to hurt her. There'd been enough misery.

So he stopped trying to engage with her after the third day. He'd spend his mornings sleeping in, then take some time to see the sights around town. Taos was a lovely community, and he liked looking at the art and learning abut the history of the place. In emotional situations, Spencer sometimes retreated behind his intellect, used it as a shield.

He'd take up the same chair in the early afternoon, having bought a drink and a book he could pretend to read. Independent stores didn't carry as many titles as the chains, but what they lacked in volume they made up for in quality. He would keep the book open in his lap, drinking his smoothie as he listened to the hum of voices around him. Once or twice, he'd catch sight of her in the corner of his eye, but he remained where he was, silent and stubborn. An immovable object in the face of the irresistible force of her displeasure.

"I think he's cute."

Ruth said it on the fifth day, and Elle rolled her eyes so hard that she was afraid they'd stick that way. Reid had always been pretty, and the years had taken that prettiness and matured it. The gawkiness was still there, and his inner nerd was alive and well, but at some point, Dr. Spencer Reid had gotten _hot_.

On the seventh day, at closing time, she was bidding goodnight to some of her staff and looking forward to a quiet night at home. Dealing with the public all day made her want to put her feet up and be alone afterwards. She'd gotten a dog, a boxer mix she'd found at a shelter. Her name was Maxie. Elle had considered Maximus, then changed her mind to avoid questions about why she'd give a female dog a male name. Six times out of ten, the mutt was the only company she wanted after a long day.

Spencer was occupying his usual chair. He knew from looking at his watch that the store was about to close. People, patrons and staff alike, were gathering their things and heading towards the exits. He'd talked to Garcia last night, and the hacker had said that Aaron was asking questions regarding his whereabouts. He'd been in Taos for a week, and the accusatory silence whenever Elle allowed hm to get within ten feet of her was so loud that he almost wished she'd scream at him. Was she really still _this_ bitter?

Then again, if he'd been more attentive in the first place, she might not have vanished into the ether at all.

He got up and closed the book he'd bought, slipping it into his satchel. He'd finished his drink a while ago, and he picked up the empty cup and the paper that he'd peeled away from the plastic straw. He'd always been the neat sort, keeping things in their place. Creating order out of chaos. 

Good, he was leaving. She'd been worried she'd have to tell hm they were closing, and if she spoke to him, that meant he'd won. Somehow this had turned into a contest, a battle of wills. He was interfering with the peace of mind she'd found here, creating chaos where she'd established order. Elle caught sight of Spencer as he moved towards the marked waste receptacle, and she instinctively turned her back on him and started to walk away.

"Please, Elle."

He hadn't meant to speak. He'd been willing to wait, to wear her down with his silence as certainly as water wore down rocks, but he was running on fumes. Had _been_ running on fumes since he'd found Alex's credentials where she'd left them in his bag. He knew Alex hadn't meant to be cruel, that she was doing what she felt was right for her life and her marriage, but it damned well hurt.

"I can't, Spence."

She was still faced away from him, and her voice was flat, but her eyes were closed. She didn't need him here, didn't _want_ him here. She could feel the exhausted hope radiating off of him in waves, the wish for her to do...something, some nameless thing he might not have even been able to identify. She had nothing to give him. Nothing she wanted to give him. 

"Can't?"

He'd thrown away his trash by now, was studying the line of her back. He wondered if she braided her hair on her own or if someone else did it for her. Did she have friends? Did she date? Did she have a lover? His soul ached for everything he'd lost. Supposedly loss was a part of growing up, but how much was he supposed to give up?

"Won't."

There was finality in her voice, and she hated hm for making her be cruel. She hated all of them, but in the Now she hated him the most because he wanted her to fix him somehow, and she couldn't do that for him. Why should she? They'd left her to fix herself, so now she was repaying the favor.

His shoulders slumped momentarily, and then he pulled out of the slouch. The years had been kind to her. She'd filled out, gained a little weight, and the hostility he could read in her posture, hear in her voice, made her seem harsh, but in those few seconds when she'd first recognized him, he'd seen the woman she used to be. A woman who had been his friend.

The door opened, then closed, and Spencer stepped out into the balmy night. His rental was the last one n the lot. He didn't know what to do now.

It was as if someone had let all the air out of the room when he left, and Elle swallowed. She tasted salt at the back of her throat. 

"Go home, Reid," she said into the ensuing quiet. Her voice was hoarse. "Get away from me."


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer gave himself a day to think it over. He didn't go to Page Turners. He looked around at some more of the sights, bought a couple of souvenirs for when he returned home. He ate dinner alone in his room, looking out the window and examining his options. Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant Elle wouldn't be opening the store until later in the day.

He had tried looking her up in the phone book, but there were no Greenaways listed. Which sort of surprised him, since she clearly wasn't in hiding. Then again, he might not have found her at all without Garcia's help, because he hadn't had the first clue of where to look.The profiler looked at his watch, then picked up his phone. Two hours time difference wasn't that bad.

"Temple of All Knowledge, this is the Oracle speaking."

"Hi, Garcia."

" _Reid_!"

Spencer smiled tiredly, picturing Penelope sitting straight up in her ergonomic chair. The sun was beginning to set. He felt hollow inside. This was his last shot, and if it didn't work, he'd go home empty-handed.

"Please tell me you're on your way home," the hacker said. "Hotch is getting suspicious, and I'm a _really_ bad liar. Like, epically bad."

"I'm still in New Mexico," Spencer answered, and he could almost see the blonde's face falling. "I need you to do something for me. One more thing. I need her address. Her home address. I went to her store, and she...she cut me dead."

"Spence...":

Garcia blew out a sigh into the phone, and she drummed her fingers on the desk. "It really sounds like she doesn't want to hear from you. I don't actually know what went on back then, but eight years is a long time. I'd hate for you to get hurt again."

"Penelope."

Spencer had closed his eyes against the concern in Garcia's voice. He knew she was protective of 'her people', and he was sorry for worrying her, but he was already here and he wanted to see it through. He'd never really taken the time to let his wounds heal before. Not after Hankel, not after he got clean, not after Maeve died, and now with Alex gone yet another of his supports had been kicked out from under him. He wanted a respite, no matter how brief. If this was the only place he stood a chance of finding it, then so be it.

"Please." It was a whisper. "I'll never ask you for another thing as long as I live. But I need this. Please."

That dried up Garcia's reluctance. How could she deny Reid when he sounded so exhausted? He was tough, tougher than she was, but he'd been through so much. She put on her game face, pulled the chair closer to the desk. She wasn't the Oracle for nothing.

"Give me fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops."

And he wanted to thank her, but he was crying and he didn't want her to hear it in his voice. So he just made a noise, then tried to steady his breathing. Wiped at his eyes with the hand not holding the phone.

Being armed with where to find Elle would steady hm in the morning. If her bitter anger was a rock, then he was the water that would try to erode it.


	5. Chapter 5

Elle lived in a rented two bedroom house that had a fenced-in back yard for the dog. It was a quiet neighborhood, mostly made up of young families and the occasional college graduate who was just getting started. She'd never taken an actual poll, but she was pretty sure she was the oldest person on the block.

She always got up early on Sundays, even though she didn't open the store until later. She'd take Maxie out for a walk, then clean up after her. Sometimes she'd go for a short walk or a jog. She'd eat a leisurely breakfast while reading the Sunday paper, then putter around the house until it was time to leave for work. Fixings had been set out for the morning meal, and the dog had parked herself near the kitchen table, probably hoping for a scrap or two.

The screen door creaked when Elle opened it, and she made a mental note to put some WD 40 on the hinges later. And then she stopped, halfway in and halfway out of the house. The porch was covered, and there was an old swing bolted to the wooden awning. She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, her mouth twisting.

"For Christ's sake, Spencer, _seriously_?"

He'd been sitting out there for thirty minutes, and the longer he'd waited the more he'd worried that someone would see him and call the police. He doubted hus bagde would carry much weight this far from Quantico. Her neighbors must all have been the types who slept in. The chains attached to the swing rattled when he got up. Bits of rust had flaked off onto his hands when he touched the metal links. The corners of his mouth lifted uncertainly

"Just...I needed to...just hear me out."

Her mouth had settled into a grim line, and she pushed a breath out through her nose. Reid was turning into Hamlet's father, a ghost that refused to leave. Or be quiet. Behind her, Maxie butted her head against the back of Elle's calf. She looked past him, saw the newspaper in the front yard. The end of the plastic bag it had been delivered in was gently flapping in the breeze. The hand on the back of her neck moved, scrubbed over her jawline.

"Jesus..."

She stomped past him, leaving him standing there. The dog came outside before the screen door could close, sniffed the legs of his chinos curiously. He smiled more easily at the animal, offered a hand for a getting-to-know-you sniff. Her wet nose bumped against his rust-streaked palm.

Elle swiped up her newspaper, marched up the three steps leading to the porch, then said, "Come on in, damn it. Before the neighbors think you're stalking me." Maybe if she heard him out, he'd go back to D.C. and leave her in peace. It had taken her a long time to crawl out of the black hole her life had become after she'd left the Bureau, and she didn't owe anyone from back then anything.

It was hardly the most gracious invitation Spencer had ever received, but he was grateful to have gotten even that much. He followed her into the house, watched the dog scamper towards the kitchen. The living room was bright and airy, much different than his somber apartment. He wondered again about her life here, whether she liked it or not. His shoes made noise on the uncarpeted floor as he stepped into the other room. 

She was at the stove. "You want some breakfast?" she asked, her tone still annoyed. "I was about to cook anyway."

"Just coffee, please. If it isn't too much trouble."

"Get it yourself, then. I'm not a waitress."

She had a Keurig. Spencer didn't know why that surprised him. He found mugs in a cupboard, took down a plain white one. He plucked a K cup out of the rack next to the machine, set it up to perk. He hadn't felt this awkward or clumsy in a long time.

"I know you don't want me here."

"That's an understatement."

She cracked some eggs. Refused to look at him. It was so _weird_ to have Spencer Reid in her kitchen. He'd been the one who'd come to see her every day when she was in the hospital after Randall Garner shot her, and there had been a bond there. She still hated them, all of them, but if she had to rate it on a scale of one to ten, she supposed she hated Reid the least.

"Why now? It's been eight Goddamned years."

Had she always sworn this much? Spencer couldn't remember. The spoon clacked against the inside of the mug as he stirred sugar into his coffee. He'd found some flavored creamer in the fridge. It was supposed to taste like hazelnut. He could feel her resentment.

"Because you were the first one who left without saying goodbye."

He was irritated with himself because he was dissatisfied with the way he'd said it, but it felt true. Behind him, the pan slammed against the burner. He turned just in time to find her rounding on him.

"Fuck you if you're trying to make me feel guilty," she shot back. Her dark eyes snapped sparks at him. "I left before they could make up a reason to make me go. So I could do it on my own terms."

That actually made Spencer smile for real. If she yelled at him, he could take it. What he didn't want was to be babied. He knew the others tended to think of him as younger than they were, less adult. They didn't mean it as an insult, but he hadn't come out here to get his hand held. And in a distant way, he'd just realized that Elle was beautiful.

A chair scraped across linoleum as he sat down, and she went back to cooking, feeling discomfited. She couldn't apologize because she wasn't sorry, but hating hm the least just _might_ mean that she liked him just the tiniest bit. And he was so pretty when he smiled. Too pretty.

"It keeps happening, y'know?" he asked. His beard stubble made a noise against his fingers when he scratched his cheek. "People keep disappearing. They either leave or they die. One day, they're just...not there anymore."

And she didn't want to hear the muted sorrow in his voice. Or imagine what she'd missed out on. They'd left her to fend for herself, not the other way around. She breathed into the silence. Her filled plate was brought to the table. Breakfast was uncomplicated, Eggs, bacon, toast, coffee. She studied him, realized that he looked even older than he had last night at the store. 

"You look awful, Spence."

"I feel awful." He scratched his bristly cheek again, drank some more coffee.

"What do you want from me? I left Washington behind for a reason. I have a new life now, and its a pretty good one."

He touched the back of her hand with one finger, then covered her knuckles. His expression was fighting it out between 'agitated' and 'determined'. He was usually a lot more eloquent than this, and his sudden inability to use his words frustrated the hell out of him.

"Just...let me stay close for a little while. So I can take a deep breath."

Elle took her hand away a second too late. Spencer's palm had been warm because of the coffee mug. She picked up her fork, started in on her eggs.

"You want to stay here? Go ahead, I can't stop you. It's a free country. Just don't expect to be able to hang over my shoulder all the time."

She cursed inwardly even as she said it, but if he was determined then she wouldn't tell him to go away. She'd tried that, and it hadn't worked. Maybe passive resistance would. He didn't know what he was getting into, because he'd apparently forgotten how stubborn she was.

He ducked his head, feeling grateful. He recognized this as a gift, something she didn't have to give him. That meant he shouldn't squander it. 

"I'll stay out of your way," he said earnestly. "But if you want to see me...I can be found."


	6. Chapter 6

Four days passed. Spencer called Elle once, having gotten her phone number before he left. She was reserved over the phone. Not unfriendly, but wary. He guessed she was still feeling him out. He kept the conversation to generalities; the weather, his hotel accommodations, the gas mileage he was getting from his rental car. When you could spout facts about almost anything, generalities served just fine to prevent uncomfortable silences.

He continued to explore the town. He felt he was beginning to annoy the desk clerks with his endless questions, so he picked up some brochures and street maps to help him find his way around. At night before bed, he'd examine the scar on his neck. Wondered about the one Elle probably still carried. It hadn't been the right time to get into long-winded conversations about exactly what had happened after she'd left, how bad things had gotten. He had to let her get used to the idea that he was nearby again. 

He was marking off the days on his planner. He'd told Hotch he was going to take his full allotment of sick leave to fully recuperate from his injury. He didn't know what would happen if he didn't feel well enough, whole enough, to return to Quantico when that time had elapsed. The profiler supposed he'd have to put some kind of plan in place, but right now his brain was still too scattered to really think strategically.

On the fifth day, Spencer went back to Page Turners, loitered in the parking lot for a few minutes, then went inside. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the weather. He didn't want her to see the old track marks yet. That was a whole conversation by itself. Elle was dealing with a few customers in the bookstore portion of the establishment, so he distracted himself by looking over a few of the titles in the history section. He was thumbing through one of the books when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey."

She watched him close the book and put it back on the shelf. The store had simultaneously brightened and gotten smaller when she'd seen him come in. She no longer felt actively cornered, but Reid was a _presence_. A symbol of her past colliding with her present. Up close like this, she spotted the raised flesh above the collar of his shirt, but he turned to face her before she had a chance to study it. What the hell?

"Are you busy?" he asked, and Elle replied, "Not really. We had a small rush about an hour ago, but we don't really get slammed unless it's the weekend."

"I was going to get something to eat," he said, pointing towards the counter of the cafe. What she'd absurdly come to think of as 'his chair' was unoccupied. There was a second seat close to it. "If you've got some time, would you come sit with me?"

He looked less tired today, and she wondered if he was sleeping better. That was what had happened to her after a while; she'd stopped tossing and turning for most of the night and could actually rest. And she wanted to know why the hell he had a fresh scar on his neck. She'd missed it before, and she felt dimly guilty about that. 

_Too wrapped up in being pissed off_.

"Tell Sarah what you want, and I'll pay for it later."

He almost touched her shoulder, then resisted the impulse. He'd felt her eyes on him in profile, saw the confusion in her eyes when he looked at her. He didn't want to hit her with everything all at once. It would be selfish to dump all of the bad things that had befallen him since he last saw her on her plate at once. Her anger and resentment were hidden at the moment, but it was a tentative situation. He wondered about the piece of turquoise around her neck again. Had someone given it to her, or did she acquire it herself?

His thoughts flitted towards her scar. He'd seen it years ago, while she was still in the hospital. She'd never been the vain sort back then, but that might have changed. Spencer's fingers rubbed absently at the mark on his neck. Wondered what she thought of it, if she thought anything at all.

He ordered a muffin and his usual smoothie, then carried them to where Elle was already seated. The tables were small and round. He put the plate and the cup down, then took up some room in his chair. Looked for something to say.

She beat him to it.

"What happened? And if you tell me you cut yourself shaving, I'm not going to believe you."

Reid's mouth lifted into a slight smile. _That_ was the Elle he remembered, blunt and to the point. He could still feel the hostility bubbling beneath the surface, but after nearly ten years maybe she was entitled to a little hostility. If he explained, maybe some of that would soften into understanding.

"I got shot."

He said it so casually that her mouth nearly dropped open, but she kept it from happening by a hair's breadth. "In the line of duty?" She tried to picture it; bookish Spencer in the middle of a pitched gun battle. Or maybe someone had targeted him, the way she'd been targeted. Her hands gripped the armrests of her chair.

"I'm mostly recovered," he said quietly. In a bizarre way, the physical damage was the least of it. Wounds closed and scarred over, but the worst trauma was usually emotional. That was part of why he'd come out here in the first place. He saw her expression shift, then try to shutter.

"I hope they looked out for you. Afterwards, I mean."

"About that..."

Spencer picked up his muffin and bit into it, then chewed carefully. His neck still itched sometimes, and he had to consciously refrain from scratching it. He'd had nightmare about it once, where he'd scratched himself until he bled and still couldn't keep his hand away from the new scar. The silence lingered.

"I should have done more. Back then. If I had known you were going to slip away without a word, I'd have reached out, thrown you a lifeline. I'm sorry."

And again, the simple way he said it was a stone plunking into the deep well of her bitterness, making it just the tiniest bit shallower. Spencer had never been one for flowery apologies, maybe because he was so smart. He wasn't like Gideon. Pompous, grandiose Gideon, who had also been pretty damned smart, but had lived almost exclusively in his own head. Elle averted her gaze from Reid's face.

"You were the only one who reached out at all," she said a little unsteadily. "I never thanked you. I probably should have."

"So why New Mexico? Why a book store?"

The subject change was a relief, and she looked at him again. "I wanted a fresh start. A real clean slate, y'know? And the climate is better here. I'm one of the few people from New York who doesn't like snow."

He chuckled, and there was _so_ much that she wanted to ask him about his life in the present. He'd seen her at her lowest, and he knew the worst thing she'd ever done and could still look her in the eye without flinching, and that was valuable to her. Even though it was a thing she felt no guilt over, just knowing that _one_ person didn't hold it against her was worth a lot. Reid was probably the one person from her past who wasn't trying to hurt her. Maybe she'd known that already, maybe she hadn't.

"So how are they?" It was a tentative question. She knew they'd survived without her. But she wanted to know how well they'd survived. Another stone to drop into the deep, cold well.

Spencer sat forward. "JJ got married," he said, deciding to throw her a softball first. "Had a kid and everything. His name's Henry." Pause. "She named me and Garcia his godparents."

Elle smiled, then actually laughed a little, trying to picture it. "Training wheels for a kid of your own?" she asked, gently teasing. 

He blushed a bit. "Maybe," he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. Her denim-clad knee bumped his calf, almost companionably. 

"And Gideon?"

Because she might as well take the bull by the horns, right? 

Reid decided to tread _very_ lightly here. He would tell her the truth, but diplomatically so. He picked up his cup, drank some of his smoothie. She was just looking at him.

"He's gone," he said simply. "He left a little while after you did, actually. No one's heard from him since."

Elle stared at Reid. Was he _kidding_ her? The great Jason Gideon had abandoned ship? The smile had dimmed, and then it came back with an edge on it. She laughed again, but the bitter humor in it made Spencer avert his gaze. He hadn't expected that.

"Oh," she said, trying to rope in her reaction. "Oh, that's good. That's perfect."

He got up from the chair, hurt and annoyed. Gideon's departure had hurt him just as much as hers had, and for her to sit there and _laugh_ about it was just...too much.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Elle. Maybe."

The amusement, such as it was, dried up when he started to walk away from her, and then she was ashamed of herself. She didn't want to be cruel to him. As many issues about the past as she had, Spencer wasn't the one she was angry at. And hurting hm gave her no pleasure.

"Spencer." She was up herself, following after him. His shoulders hunched as if her voice was a blow.

"I said I'll see you later." He was still walking, his hand digging into his pocket for his keys.

" _Reid_."

She said it so sharply that people stared at them, and she waved them back towards their business. He looked over his shoulder at her, then turned around. His hazel eyes were dark with pain. The look in them made her wince.

"I'm sorry." She stumbled over it a little, but managed to get the words out. Apologies weren't easy for her and never had been, but he was the last person she wanted to wound. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. It was a dick move. Please don't leave."

"I know you probably still hate him, and I can see your point, but he was my friend too." He spoke in a low voice, his tone mournful. But he'd taken a half-step towards her.

She moved to meet him, her hands at her sides. Because she hadn't hugged him yet. They were the walking wounded, apparently, casualties of a war they hadn't even realized they were fighting until it was too late. She could see the pain in his face.

"Come here."

He came closer, and Elle reached up and put her arms around his neck. He'd filled out too, gotten more solid. The shelf of his chin came to rest on the top of her head. His long arms were around her waist. 

And silently, a large rock dropped from above into the well, displacing some more of the water.


	7. Chapter 7

Things became easier after that.

Spencer would come by the store sometimes, or he'd drop by the house. Elle took him out to dinner once or twice. She talked about her life post-Washington, how she'd gradually worked her way west until she finally settled in Taos, then opened the store because she'd needed something to do with herself. He met some of her new friends. They went to the movies together. Gradually, his breathing eased. He was still dutifully checking off days on his calendar. He had yet to really open up about his experiences, but the door was ajar.

Not that things were seamless, or that the path was perfectly smooth. She'd get moody occasionally, or he'd need some space because being so close to her again reminded him that she'd walked away without looking back, but they tried not to take things out on each other. Not being out to hurt one another meant that sometimes they needed space, and they worked on it consciously.

She realized she was attracted to him one night when he was bringing her home, and the idea was so odd - and yet so right somehow - that it didn't faze her. He was still the same Spencer, who told jokes that she didn't always understand and could be incredibly geeky sometimes, but he'd also developed a maturity since she'd seen him last. Hard experience told her that there was pain involved, but she waited patiently for him to be ready to talk to her. She'd taken the counseling route to help her come to terms with herself after she left the BAU, and she didn't know if Spence had seen someone or not, so she didn't ask.

"You want to come in for a beer?" 

The invitation was automatic, and Spencer looked at his watch. He'd treated Elle to dinner, and they usually rounded things out with a nightcap at her house before he went back to his hotel. "Sure, I could come in for a while," he said easily, unfastening his seat belt and opening the driver's side door. She walked up the few steps to the porch, then unlocked the house. Maxie was sleeping on the couch, but the dog woke up when the keys landed on the table next to the door. 

Reid crouched down and rubbed the animal's ears. Elle busied herself in the kitchen. She was trying not to have impure thoughts. She doubted he realized how she saw him. Spencer was an intellectual first, or at least he had been before. If he had any inkling, he'd given no sign of it.

He was seated on the sofa when she came back with two bottled beers, and she handed him one. "So are you still finding new and exciting things to explore?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"I am, actually," he answered, toying with the bottle before taking a drink. "There's a lot of history here, a lot to learn. The blending of cultures is fascinating."

He fell silent, and she leaned against the armrest. "Let's talk about you."

"What?"

"We've spent most of our time together talking about me. I want to hear about you now."

He looked at her sideways, and his expression was vulnerable. One of the drawbacks of his intelligence was that it had made him an anomaly when he was younger, and while he'd been able to talk to girls, and later women, he was always awkward at it at first. But he had known Elle before life became one disaster after another, and that made it easier. 

"Things have been difficult."

She waited. He looked down at his shoes. The dog had taken up some space near the couch. He put his hand out, and she came over and sniffed at it. 

He put the beer aside, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. Then he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and held his arms out. Looked at her in silence.

She didn't get it at first, and then she took hold of his wrists and _really_ looked. The marks were faint, almost completely faded, but when she let go of his wrists and ran her fingers over the undersides of his forearms, she felt them. _Tracks._ She sought out his eyes. His mouth was a thin line.

"Reid..."

"I got hooked on Dilaudid," he said flatly. "A psychopath named Tobias Hankel kidnapped me and injected me with the stuff to keep me docile. I kept using after I was freed. I've been clean for a little while, though."

Elle was still touching the old needle marks. They felt like Braille. His eyes pleaded with her despite the lack of emotion in his voice. She took his hands. Their fingers interlocked.

"Go ahead, Spencer." Her voice was very soft, but her guts were churning. "You can tell me. I can take it."

His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, and he said, "Her name was Maeve. I only ever talked to her on the phone at first. She helped us with a case, even though she was more or less in hiding from a stalker. I..."

He choked up, and she let go of his hands and put her arms around him. He was shivering, _shuddering_. She held him tighter. His vision had blurred, but it was like catharsis. He was wetting her shirt with his tears. She rubbed the small of his back.

"I dreamed about her after she died," he said, his voice barely audible. "We danced together in my apartment. That was the closest I ever got to touching her, a fucking _dream_."

"Oh, honey."

And Elle felt like a fraud, because Spencer was looking for a friendly ear to just listen, or at most a sister. And she was feeling less and less sisterly towards him the longer they stayed like that. The diplomatic thing would have been to let him go, but she didn't want to abandon him when he was so clearly in desperate need of her support. He was finally clean-shaven, having used a razor in the last day or so, and his cheek rubbed against the side of her neck.

He didn't know why he kissed her. If someone had asked him for an explanation, he wouldn't have been able to provide one. But Elle was simultaneously a friend and a stranger, someone he had reclaimed recently enough that it didn't feel strange. He was miserable, and had been miserable for what felt like years. So when he kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder he was only looking for a way to prolong the warmth of her closeness.

She hadn't expected that. Spencer's mouth was warm, and the spot tingled when the contact broke. A red flag went up, and she ignored it. She was still holding him, but somehow they had moved into a reclining position.

"Reid."

"Elle."

He kissed her cheek, and his hair tickled her jawline. Then his mouth brushed her forehead. He was avoiding her mouth consciously. If his lips touched hers, that would mean he;d done it on purpose. His hands were taking slow stock of her curves. He dropped a kiss on the point of her chin. Her hands flexed against the small of his back.

"Are you gonna kiss me or play around about it?" Her tone was amused, but underneath the humor she didn't feel _quite_ right about this. This was Spencer Reid, her surrogate little brother. And it wasn't as if she didn't date or have a pretty good sex life. But eight years could feel like forever when you were getting to know someone again, and he was making her _horny_ The brunette tipped her face upwards, looking for him to either kiss her properly or stop teasing her with the idea that he might.

He slanted his mouth over hers without letting himself over-think it, and it was warm and sweet with more than a hint of longing beneath it. He knew who he was kissing. This was Elle Greenaway; prickly, difficult Elle, who he'd had to search for because she'd disappeared in such a hurry. She flicked her tongue against his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth a fraction. He broke the kiss when he realized he had an erection.

"Sorry." It was awkward, but he managed to sit up. He wasn't crying anymore. He actually felt lighter than he had in a long time. "I didn't meant to start anything."

Jesus, now she _really_ wanted to sleep with him. Not many guys would wait until they got a hard-on, and then back off. "It's okay, Spence," she said quietly, also making an effort to sit up. Her braid had loosened a bit, and she fiddled with it. "You were upset. People need comfort when they're upset." 

_Fraud. Liar._

She put her hand on his leg, just above the knee, and he darted a look at her. He could still feel her tongue playing against his. And there was guilt, because he didn't want to use her or take advantage just to make himself feel better.. She was his friend, and he didn't want to make her run away again. 

That didn't stop hi from imagining what she might look like naked, though.

"I think I better go," he said. Getting to his feet was a little difficult, the tenting of his pants obvious when he stood up, and she graciously looked elsewhere. He didn't miss the hint of a smile, however. "Before I...well...hmm."

"Good night, Spencer."

She saw him outside, and she insisted on hugging him before he left. And pushed her hips fractionally into his before stepping back inside. He looked at the closed door and groaned to himself. 

Sometimes the most unexpected things....were the best things.


	8. Chapter 8

"Where is he, Garcia?"

"Sir?"

Penelope was at her desk reading a paperback, and when Hotch poked his head into her lair she started a little. She put the book down after marking her spot with a tasseled bookmark, pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. She'd been dreading this, had been trying to brace herself for the eventuality of it. Reid's sick leave was almost used up, and she hadn't heard from him since he'd contacted her looking for Elle's home address. It had only a matter of time before Aaron started _really_ asking questions.

"Where is who, sir?"

Aaron's mouth was already a narrow line, and his lips tightened further as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He wasn't quite giving her the full on   
Hotch Stare yet, but the possibility was hovering on the horizon. Garcia had never been the recipient of one of his lectures, and he didn't really want to deliver one now, but Reid's absence was beginning to become a concern. He hadn't been in touch with Spencer since Alex Blake had finished concluding her business with the unit, and underneath the stoic demeanor the radio silence worried him.

"Reid," he said, managing to not quite bite off the word as if it were something solid. "I know you've spoken with him. He told me before he went on leave that he spent some time sleeping on the couch at your apartment. Did he say where he was going?"

"No, sir."

And she hated to lie, because she was _terrible_ at it, but Penelope had promised Spence that she'd keep quiet, and she'd rather protect his feelings than anything else. Aaron Hotchner could be terrifying when he wanted to be, and she was worried for Reid too, but if preserving his secret meant lying to Hotch, then so be it.

He wanted to believe her. It was entirely possible that Reid was simply using the time off to rest up, recuperate, as he had said. He considered trying to get in touch with Alex, then set it aside. In an emergency he might do it anyway, but that was a last resort. He didn't want Spencer slipping away from them too. He fixed the hacker with a low-level version of his patented glare, and was slightly gratified when she leaned back a bit in her chair.

"If you _do_ hear from hm, I expect to hear about it. Is that clear, Garcia?"

A direct order. A polite direct order, but just the same it was very clearly not a request. The blonde nodded, fighting the urge to squirm. "You'll be the first to know, sir, I promise."

Aaron held the look for another few seconds, then opened the door and stepped beyond the threshold. He left it open, and before he walked away he swore he heard Garcia sigh with relief.


	9. Chapter 9

Spencer became a regular fixture at Page Turners. He didn't always buy something, but he'd built up enough goodwill that it didn't seem to matter. Elle would come sit with him on her breaks, and they'd either talk or not talk as the mood struck them. They'd spend time together on the weekends. She was the one who suggested that he use the spare bedroom at her house, that it was ridiculous for him to spend money on a hotel when they were practically in each other's back pockets, and it sounded so sensible that he moved out of the Quality and in with her that afternoon. 

He knew he was running out of sick days, and he was putting off really thinking about what to do when that happened. His neck was no longer giving him much trouble, and he could sense that his psyche was healing, but he was loath to consider returning to Washington just yet. Being with Elle was helping him, and he felt that he was helping her in kind. This might just be an oasis, one he couldn't live in forever, but he wasn't ready to leave it yet.

They hadn't slept together. The couch had become their cuddle spot, and they both savored the intimacy of it, but neither of them had actually said they should take that next step. She'd felt his erection against the inside of her leg enough times to be confident that he was at least physically excited by her, and he thought about the way she felt underneath him on a loop that haunted his dreams. He didn't want to hurt her. She didn't know what it would do to their renewed friendship if she took him to bed, although God knew she wanted to.

"Do you not actually want me, Spencer?"

She said it one night after dinner. He'd picked up a bottle of wine to go with the meal. The built-in dishwasher in the kitchen was humming its way through its cycle. He had his head on her breasts, and she was playing with his hair. The news was on. Maxie was snoring softly in the hallway. He shifted, looked at her. A sheepish smile crept across his face.

"It's not that."

"It's okay if you don't," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to...say that you _have_ to or anything. I know you're still working things out, and I'm not trying to rush you into anything." Elle tugged at his hair lightly. "I was just...I dunno...wondering."

Spencer shifted again, braced one hand against the arm of the sofa so that he could support his weight. His eyes traced over her features, and the index finger of his other hand touched her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, and the digit slipped inside up to the first joint. His jaw tightened when she sucked on his fingertip lightly, and his cock started to stiffen. Even the smallest gesture could be ridiculously erotic with the right person, or even the wrong person if it happened at the right time.

He took his hand away, and his gangly frame untangled itself from hers as he got up. "I'm sorry, Elle," he sad quietly. "I feel like I'm leading you on, offering something I can't really give you right now. Maybe I'll never be able to give it to anyone. I'm still carrying around the book Maeve gave me. Like it's going to bring her back."

"Spence..."

She felt like an asshole for even bringing the subject up. Yes, she wanted him, and maybe it had been a mistake asking hm to come stay with her _knowing_ that she wanted him. It wasn't fair to put pressure on him if he wasn't ready. Elle rose from the sofa, came to stand behind hm where he was looking out the window. One arm went around his waist. She refrained from pressing her breasts against his back.

He touched her hand, trying to will his hard-on away. Her warmth was a siren's call, and it would be easy enough to use her body like a bandage for his healing emotional wounds. But he didn't want to promise her something only to take it away later. Her life was here now, and his was waiting for him to return to it once he felt capable of it. He wasn't going to hurt her, not even accidentally. He wasn't like his father.

"I do want you, Elle," he admitted, looking out at the night. The street outside was quiet, peaceful. "But I don't know where my head is right now, and I wouldn't feel right touching you when I don't know what it would do to you, to _us_ , later."

She bit her tongue to stifle the urge to ask if they had become an 'us'. The hand he was touching tightened momentarily against his stomach, and then she withdrew her arm. Just that small taste of what he felt like underneath his clothes made her ache. As weird as it might have been, she wanted him as her lover.

They didn't cuddle anymore that night. The news ended, and a couple of movies came on that they semi-watched. Elle took the dog out one last time before bed, and Spencer locked up the house after his shower. He kissed her on the forehead before disappearing into the spare bedroom, and she retreated to her own room, closing the door behind her.

And then she couldn't sleep.

She lay in bed for an hour, trying to get comfortable, and the bright green numbers on the digital clock told her it was getting very late, but she couldn't fall asleep. Just knowing that Spencer was down the hall was keeping her awake, as if his body heat was seeping through the door. Elle lay on her left side, then her right, then turned onto her stomach. Rest wouldn't come. When she realized it was hopeless, she looked at the ceiling in the dark, then shook her head.

"Jesus."

Spencer was dozing fitfully , and he woke up because he heard te door open. The silence became weighty. When she spoke, he wasn't really that surprised.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Yes. Yes, I meant it."

He'd changed the sheets that morning, and they were crisp and cool when she slipped into the bed next to him. He rolled over to face her, and the relief he felt at her presence was mingled with shame that he was willing to take her up on what she was offering. Maybe he wasn't such a nice guy after all.

"What about...I don't want to..."

"You let me worry about me, okay?" If it ended tomorrow, she could live with that. Tonight wasn't over yet. She was wearing an over-sized shirt. Spencer's pajamas were green. Later, neither of them would be certain who reached for who first.

That first kiss was hungry, and Spencer actually growled into Elle's mouth. This wasn't a dream, or a memory, or a fantasy, this was real. Flesh and blood Elle was offering herself to him, and he did care for her. He was also a little afraid of her. It was fearless of her to come to him when the future was so uncertain, when he wasn't sure he could ever be complete enough to give _any_ woman what they deserved. He helped her take the shirt off, dropped it on the floor next to the bed. 

"Spencer. Spence."

She was naked and on her back, and his hands were all over her. She had expected him to be tentative, that part of his uncertainty about this might have been because of inexperience, but his touch was assured. Some part of her had imagined having to guide hm through it, but that was _clearly_ not the case. Once she managed to get his pajamas off, he was well-defined but not overly muscular. A runner's build.

Elle's body was a revelation. Full breasts, slim hips, soft stomach. The dark thatch of hair between her legs was damp with moisture when he touched it. Spencer liked women, and while he never talked about his conquests and his numbers weren't astronomical, pleasing his partner was something he took pride in. And yes, the scar under her breast was still there. He mouthed it, and she writhed as he fingered her.

Would he be gentle or rough? She had always enjoyed a little of both, and maybe it would be better if he didn't take it easy on her. It would burn the need out of her system faster. His mouth had migrated upwards, and his erection jutted insistently away from his body. She was grabbing for his shoulders, his back muscles, his buttocks, anything to keep her from flying completely apart.

He rolled away from her for long enough to dig a condom out of his wallet, which was on the nightstand, and she licked her lips as she watched him roll it on. He repositioned himself, and she braced her heels against the mattress. thighs flexing.

"Elle. Jesus, Elle."

He said it as he slid into her. and she was so wet that he bottomed out without intending to. She was exquisitely tight, and dim concern that he might hurt her made hm try to pull back. She put both hands on the small of his back to hold him where he was. Her desire made her strong. He kissed her feverishly. 

"I'm tough, remember?" She could feel the tension in his muscles, and she lifted her hips into his. "This is for you. I'm for you."

That was all the encouragement Spencer needed, and he began to move. Slowly at first, trying to give her time to get used to the invasion. She felt like heaven around his cock, and he groaned into the darkness as her fingers dug into his ass. He was watching her face in between kisses.

She met him thrust for thrust, bouncing up off of the mattress to have him push her back down. One of her legs had wrapped around his hips. His teeth closed on a particularly appealing stretch of tendon on the side of her neck, and she smacked his pumping ass smartly.

"Harder, do it harder. Fuck me..."

His balls slapped against her vulva, and she wailed as she crashed into her first orgasm. She'd never been so overheated. It was as if she was racing towards a cliff, with only empty space waiting for her. If he never touched her again after this, the memory would be imprinted on her brain for the rest of her life. 

Spencer slowed down, but his thrusts became more insistent despite the lack of speed. He'd felt her walls clench around him, and he wanted to make it good for her. She was his friend, and for tonight, she was his lover. 

"Goddess."

She pulled him down to her, claimed his mouth. Whether he knew it or not, he'd given her a piece of her old self back, the woman she used to be. She would never fully be that person again, but he'd reminded her that not all of it had been terrible.

She surged beneath him, and the twist of her hips flipped him onto his back. He stared up at her, and his hands palmed her breasts. His fingertips skated over the scar. She smiled down at him.

"Goddess, huh? Worship me, then."

He sat up as she started to rock up and down on hm, and his open mouth found the hollow of her throat. She'd unbraided her hair before going to bed, and it cascaded between her shoulder blades. The walls of her cunt fluttered, then clenched. 

" **Reid**."

"That's it, come for me," he crooned against her shoulder. Then he was on his back again, his hands on her hips to help her with the rhythm. She corkscrewed her pelvis. It made him feel like he was about to pass out. His fingers dug into her flesh, hard enough that it would leave bruises.,

She could feel another come slithering around in her guts, but she didn't think she could get there again. He saw her struggling, and he rolled her over so that he was on top again. The wordless relief in her face made him laugh.

"I'm for you too."

She couldn't believe how good he was at this, and she clung to him as they moved together. It was simultaneously tender and aggressive, and it was so exactly what she had needed that it was as if he'd read her mind. She was a realist, and she knew he'd probably leave her eventually, but she'd wanted this.

She climaxed for the third time just before he finished, and she shrieked as she arched up into him. He let out a guttural groan at the pulse of his own release, and every muscle went limp as he collapsed on top of her.

"Elle."

"Spencer." 

She was playing with his sweat-damp hair, bringing it oddly full-circle considering that that was what she'd been doing before this happened. She was tired and sated, and tomorrow she'd probably have bruises in several questionable places. And her mind was blown. Spencer had seemed so awkward around women when she'd last known him that she'd never have guessed it, but he was a Viking in the sack.

Mind. _Blown_.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm going to need some more time off."

Spencer was on the phone with Aaron, having called Hotch's number at home. They'd exchanged mild pleasantries, and he'd asked after the others. He and Elle were going to Santa Fe for the day. They'd discussed whether or not he should ask for more leave, and whether or not he should admit to his whereabouts. Reid could hear Jack in the background.

"I thought that was the reason you called me here," Aaron said after a minute. He looked in his son's direction, then took the phone into the other room. "You're not back in the hospital, are you?" he asked. 

"No," Spencer answered honestly. "I've been given a clean bill of health. It doesn't even itch anymore." He'd examined the scar in the bathroom mirror that morning. Elle had told him it made him look dangerous. 

"Then why the request for more time?" A pause as Hotch ran through the possibilities in his mind. "Is it your mother? Has she had another relapse?"

"No, it isn't that either," the profiler answered quickly. "Her prognosis hasn't changed." He'd given Diana a call before he'd left Quantico, just to make sure she was doing well before he left. "It's a little more...complicated than that."

And Aaron couldn't help the frown that creased his brow, the slight scowl that crossed his face. He'd suspected that Garcia knew more than she'd admit to, and he'd let it go because he didn't want to squash her. And now Reid was doing the hemming and hawing, and since he was the one who mysteriously wanted to take some more personal time for himself, as his direct superior, he couldn't _not_ ask why.

"Where are you, Reid? I was beginning to wonder if you were planning not to come back. Or that you'd had a relapse of your own."

"I'm clean." Spencer answered quietly. "I thought about using, but I had an emergency meeting with my sponsor, and that straightened me out before it happened." He knew the addiction would be with him for the rest of his life, that he had to work to hold it at bay, but that was what meetings and counseling were for. And help from friends.

"Don't make me have to ask Garcia to track you down," Aaron said, trying to joke. But there was the distinct possibility that he meant it. Reid was _worrying_ him, and worrying was an annoyance he didn't need. He heard Spencer take a deep breath on the other end of the line, semi-patiently counted the seconds.

"I'm in New Mexico," Spencer said after a full two minutes of silence. "In Taos, actually." He could _feel_ Aaron waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could hear Elle in the kitchen, rattling dishes and having a one-sided conversation with the dog. He'd already decided to keep Garcia out of it. There was no reason to have Hotch unleash his wrath on her as well, if there was wrath to be had.

"I looked up Elle," he said in a rush. "I'd been doing some reflecting after Alex resigned and decided to try finding her. She runs a book store now., I was surprised. Thought she would have been doing something different."

 _Elle_.

That was the last thing Aaron had expected, and he took the phone away from his ear and looked at it as if it had come to life in his hand. The last time he'd seen Elle Greenaway, she was turning in her credentials at his desk while refusing to admit what he'd suspected, that she'd taken the law into her own hands. The fact that she'd missed her psych evaluation had led him to have to track her down, and she'd been unapologetic when she'd left. Why in the hell would it cross Reid's mind to seek her out? "That sounds...interesting," he said in a controlled voice.

Spencer heard the storm on the horizon, the distant rumble of thunder n Aaron's tone, and he was calm when he said, "It is interesting, actually. We've been spending time together, getting to know each other again. She's doing really well for herself."

In the other room, Jack called for him, and Hotch said, "If you need more time, I can arrange for that. You've so seldom taken personal days n the past that you're probably owed more than you had saved up. So I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Hotch," said Spencer with muted gratitude. He could tell that the other man had questions, questions he wasn't asking, but it was really none of his business. There was a reason he didn't talk about what he did on his time off.

With the phone call taken care of, he went into the kitchen and found Elle cleaning up the last of the breakfast dishes. Spencer had cooked, and she'd wanted to give him privacy to talk to Hotch. He picked up his coffee mug and drained it, then handed it off to her so she could put it in the machine. 

"Did you tell him?"

"Yeah, I did."

That was gratifying for her, although she didn't let on about it. What she remembered about Hotch was more flattering than what she remembered about Gideon, but she knew he'd believed she'd gone rogue. If he hadn't believed it, he wouldn't have let her turn in her badge and gun without a fight. She closed the door of the dishwasher, turned to face Spencer. They were due to leave in a few minutes, just as soon as Maxie had her late-morning walk. One of her hands grasped his.

He stepped closer, lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. After that first night with her, he'd ceased to examine whatever this might mean in the long term. They had right now, a combination of the past and the present, and he was making the most of it. As cliche as it might have been, Elle was helping him heal. He only hoped he was doing the same for her.

She looped her arms around his neck, went up on her toes to kiss him on the mouth. Perhaps it was fitting that he'd been the one to find her after all, and whether it was because he'd helped her before or not she had no idea. She chuckled into his mouth when he backed her up against the refrigerator, a pleased sound as the kiss got warmer and wetter.

"You are gonna have _so_ much sex tonight, Dr. Reid." Her breath fanned over his lips and chin.

He cupped her breast, gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "Then we'd better get on the road," he said with a smile. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back."


	11. Chapter 11

The weather was getting even warmer now that summer was actually upon them. Elle had been mildly shocked to discover that Spencer couldn't swim, so she'd decided to take him to a local pool and try to teach him. They spent more time goofing off in the pool than anything else, but they enjoyed it. The closeness of the past had been almost completely regained, shored up by their relationship in the present. The highlight of her day had become coming home to find him watching television on the couch, the dog at his feet on the floor. She knew the day was coming when he'd have to leave, and while there was a part of her that wanted to keep him for a little while longer, she wasn't planning to hold him there with her.

She was doing some yard work one morning before it go too hot. He was on the porch, sitting in the old swing reading a book. Kids could be heard playing down the street, and occasionally a neighbor would walk by and wave or stop to talk for a few minutes. It was the weekend, so they had no firm plans. 

A black Prius eased its way down the street, slowed in front of the house, then kept going. Elle only noticed it because it was freshly washed as opposed to having a thin layer of dust on it. A trickle of perspiration wandered down the side of her neck, and she turned towards the porch.

"Spence, could you go inside and pour me a glass of tea?"

Reid got up, and the screen door opened and closed. The house was cooler and darker, and he padded into the kitchen to hunt up a glass. He could feel their time growing short, and as a coping mechanism he;d stopped wearing a watch. There was an untanned spot on his wrist where it usually sat. Ice cubes rattled, then crackled as he poured tea into the glass.

He was moving back towards the front door when it opened again, and Elle came inside. A second figure stepped into the living room after her, and Spencer paused when Aaron made eye contact, looking over Elle's head. Reid was confused, and it showed.

"Aaron?" 

Hotch wasn't sure this was the best idea he'd ever had. In fact, he was mostly _positive_ that this was the worst idea he'd ever had, but he'd started to dwell on Spencer remaining in Taos with Elle. Yes, Reid was a grown man, and he couldn't exactly drag him out of the house by his ear, but he'd wanted to check on things first hand instead of by phone. He tucked his hands into his pockets, looked for something non-combative to say.

"I hope I'm not intruding. I just wanted to...see how you were doing for myself."

Elle was already quietly bristling. She'd come to like, possibly even love, having Spencer here, but that had been because she'd invited him here, and he hadn't come by without permission after that first time. Aaron was a different story. She took the glass of tea out of Spence's hand and took a drink, remaining close to him for potential emotional support.

Without thinking about it, Reid took her free hand in his, and saw Aaron's eyes narrow as he followed the gesture. He didn't release her fingers, though.

So _that_ was how things were, then. Hotch looked at Elle, and she smiled back at hm tightly.

"I didn't mean for you to fly all the way out here," Spencer said. "There's not an important case, is there? I'm still technically on leave. Do you want a consult for something?"

"I think what he wants to put you in a sack and take you home."

Elle said it in a mild voice, and a frown line appeared between Aaron's eyebrows. Because he wasn't sure she wasn't right. If the instinctive handclasp was anything to go by, Spencer and their former colleague had become close. Possibly even intimate. He'd never consciously treated Reid differently than any of the other team members, but his youth when he'd first joined the BAU and his status as a prodigy had made him an oddity. Someone to be watched over. Elle had been dangerous once, or at least high-risk. Why Spencer would run to her was beyond Aaron.

"I was concerned," he said evenly. "You drop out of sight for weeks without so much as a phone call, and when you finally do get in touch its to ask for more time away. If I had known you'd looked up an old...friend, I'd have been less inclined to pester Garcia."

The pause before Hotch said 'friend' was slight but noticeable, and Spencer winced. Maybe it had been an error in judgment to call Aaron. An email might have been a better plan. "I told you, I'm fine," he said patiently. "I wanted to spend a little more time with Elle before heading back to D.C. She's helping me get my head together."

They gave each other an indefinable look, and Aaron couldn't help the dubious expression on his face. If he had heard from Elle after she left, known how she was doing, he'd have had more faith in the idea that she could help _anyone_ learn to cope . As it was, he let out a very small snort.

She heard the noise, and her expression soured. This was her house, and if Hotch didn't like it here, he could fucking leave. She wasn't one of his underlings anymore. She put the half-full glass down, folded her arms.

"If you have something you'd like to say, Aaron, I'd like to hear it. Actually, I'd be delighted to hear it. You haven't spoken to me in eight years, but by all means, let's hear your opinion."

The bitterness in her voice made Spencer squeeze her hand, but what he wanted to do was put his arms around her. His presence had softened some of it, chased it away, but it was still very much a work in progress. "Elle," he said quietly. "You don't have to..."

And Hotch felt the weight of the accusation, felt it and knew she was right, but she was the one who'd cut off all contact. If nothing else, she could have turned to Reid, and instead she had just turned her back. Justified or not, she could have left the door open.

"I think it's understandable that I'd be dubious about this 'help' you're giving Reid," he said tightly. "If the way you handle problems is any indication, you're probably doing more harm than good."

"Aaron..."

Spencer's voice was low, and the storm wasn't just on the horizon now, it wasi n the living room with them. Elle's expression had darkened, and she'd unfolded her arms.

"You're unbelievable," she said, looking up at Aaron with a smile, but it was the smile of someone who knew that nothing was funny.

"And you're a killer."

" **Aaron**!"

Reid was aghast, both at Hotch's reaction and at how fast this had gone downhill. He risked a look at Elle, fearing the worst.

All of the humor, as false as it had been, had dropped out of her expression as certainly as if she'd been sucker-punched, and she pointed beyond Hotch at the door.

" _Get out of my Goddamned house!_ " she yelled, and Aaron actually flinched. He hadn't meant to say it so baldly, and the appalled look on Spencer's face didn't make him feel any better. "I said **get out**!" she shouted, managing to raise her voice even more. Maxie came bounding into the room, having come in when Aaron and Elle stepped inside. The dog growled, then whined loudly.

Far too late, Aaron beat a retreat, stepping out onto the porch. The day had grown hot, and he saw the sun reflecting off of the windshield of his rented Prius. He pushed his fingers through his close-cropped hair, looked back towards the door.

Elle was shaking with fury, and when Spencer tried to put his hand on her shoulder she yanked away from him as if he'd scalded her. In her own house. _In her own Goddamned, fucking house_. Then she forced her expression to flatten out. 

"You want to go with him?" she asked, and Reid shook his head. No, he didn't want to go anywhere with Hotch right now. Maybe not ever again. "I'm sorry, Elle," he said hoarsely. "I didn't ask him to come here." If Aaron had just managed to shatter the peace he'd found here, he was never going to speak to him again. The way she was looking at him right now made his heart hurt.

"Get rid of him," she said flatly, waving a hand towards the porch. She had a blinding headache now, and it wasn't from the heat outside. "I'm gonna lay down where its dark. If he's still here when I get up, I'm calling the cops. Let's see how he'd like that."

Spencer closed the door very softly, then turned to face Aaron. His eyes were stormy, but he spoke in a deceptively quiet voice. 

" _What_ is wrong with you?"

Hotch looked for words, couldn't find the ones he wanted. What could he say? He rubbed his forehead, feeling uncomfortable. "I was honestly trying to help, Reid."

Spencer dragged both hands through his hair, making a frustrated noise. He looked up to Aaron, admired him, and considered him a friend, but the image the man apparently had of him had to go. He took a deep breath, then released it.

"Look," he said, less angrily. "I know you, and probably the others, see me as this kid, even though I've been with the unit just as long as any of you. But I'm not a kid anymore. I haven't been one since the first time I got beat up at school."

"Reid..."

"No," he said firmly. "I'm talking now. I know you're trying to help, and I appreciate it. But I care about Elle, and if you hurt her, you hurt me too. If you've ever respected me at all, you will let me make my own mistakes. If this turns out to be a disaster, I can live with that. I reached out to her for a reason, and even though I didn't expect what happened, it's the happiest I've been in a _long_ time."

The short speech left him a little winded, and he was also apprehensive about Aaron's reaction. He'd never talked back much before in the past, had learned that you only got hit harder if you complained, and while he doubted that Hotch was going to punch him, some training was hard to forget. He raked his fingers through his now-unruly hair, tousling it further.

Aaron looked even more uncomfortable now. Uncomfortable and ashamed. That call had brought him running to New Mexico because he'd thought that Reid had needed saving, whether it was from Elle or from himself. Elle was probably the deciding factor, but would he have done the same thing if she'd been with David or Derek? He managed a rueful smile.

"I didn't mean to just show up," he said. "I talked myself out of it twice, then went ahead and booked a flight. I thought..." A shrug. "I don't know what I thought."

Spencer looked towards the door. All of the progress he'd helped Elle make had probably just been flushed down the toilet, and he felt partly responsible. He definitely should have used email instead of the phone. And not said where he was.

"Go home, Aaron," he said, his tone not unfriendly, but not overly warm either. "I need to try and patch this up. If there's anything left _to_ patch up."


	12. Chapter 12

Five miserable days passed. 

Elle put Spencer's things out in the hall, and he moved back into the spare bedroom without complaint. He was just grateful that she didn't kick him out altogether. He tried to talk to her, and she brushed him off. He didn't go to the store, but went to the public library instead. His stomach had hollowed out. The silence at night was deafening.

And she knew she was being unfair, that it wasn't his fault that Aaron Hotchner had barged into her living room. Hotch's actions were on him and no one else, and given the way she'd reacted to him maybe he was right to be concerned. But she couldn't look at Spencer without feeling as if the time between them had never happened. Suddenly it was eight years ago all over again, and she was once more the outsider.

So she didn't talk, and he stopped trying to engage. She worked, and he walked a careful circle around her once she came home. Dinner was agony, sleep nearly impossible.

On the fifth day, Spencer was in the second bedroom reading a book, and he heard Elle step into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She'd started taking her showers almost right after they'd eaten, then disappearing into her room for the night. He missed her so badly that it was like pain. He waited until he heard the water start running, then got up from the bed and started to undress.

Naked, he padded down the hall, and Maxie looked up from the rawhide she was chewing on, then went back to her toy. Lately, the dog liked him more than Elle did. He turned the knob, opened the door. 

She was already under the hot spray, water running over her head and into her ears, but the draft when the shower curtain was pulled back got her attention. She made eye contact with Spencer, and her gaze was unwillingly, undeniably, drawn to the rest of him. That was the thing about Reid. He was quiet and unobtrusive, but that meant he could sneak up on you. And she'd missed him too.

He got into the tub, eased up behind her after pulling the curtain closed. She'd turned her back on him, and her posture was tense. It tensed up more when he put his hand on her hip. His fingers splayed, allowing him to touch as much of her as he could with one hand. She couldn't say the words.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I hurt you."

She didn't say anything, and his hand slipped around the curve of her hip, then dipped between her legs. Elle reached for his wrist, because she knew his touch would make her come completely undone, and he leaned down and kissed the first spot he'd ever kissed. She made a noise, but it wasn't quite a protest. Stubborn, implacable Spencer...

Strong fingers started to stroke and caress her, and she couldn't decide if she hated him or not because it felt _fabulous_ , but she wasn't wholly ready to give up being angry yet. Damn him, but he knew just how to touch her. She was still holding his wrist, but now it was so she could guide his hand. The water was hot. He was making her hotter.

"Reid."

He held her in place when she tried to turn around, gentle but firm. "I want to do this for you. You've earned it." If she had told him to stop, he'd have withdrawn his hand and gotten the hell out of there, but she'd started to move in response to the _In-Out-In-Out_ of his fingers. Her wet ass was silp-sliding back and forth against his groin, rubbing against his stiffening cock. His other hand was on her breast, playing with her nipple as his thumb rolled over her clit. He longed to be buried inside her tight heat.

She came with a moan, and the hand on her breast shifted as he put his arm around her from behind to hold her up when her knees buckled like wet cardboard. She leaned back against him, testing him to see if he'd support her. His erection poked into her backside. He kissed the top of her ear.

"Come to bed, Spence," she said, and his heart lifted. "I want you again."

They managed to shut the shower off, then trailed water after them as they made their way to the bedroom. Her bed was unmade, and she pulled him down on top of her. His wet hair brushed her cheeks and jaw. She cupped his face, kissed his mouth long and slow.

He put on a condom, then slid inside her an inch at the time, letting her feel his length as he penetrated her. He was kissing her neck, her shoulders, her ears. He was still trying to repay the debt he felt he'd incurred, soothe the hurt. She was warm and responsive underneath him.

Spencer began to move, and Elle rose to meet him. Their pace was languid rather than hurried, wet bodies sliding together as she cradled him between her thighs. She was kissing everything she could reach, her hands taking up the slack. 

:I love you." She said it just as she was tipping over the brink, inner muscles clenching around his cock.

"I love you too, Elle."

They lay together in the aftermath, and after a short time he slipped out of her and disposed of the rubber. He returned to bed, looking uncertain, and she made room for him. She felt a little unsure herself.

"You said 'I love you'."

"You said it first."

He touched her face, and she rubbed her cheek against his palm. "Yeah, I did. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

"Don't do that," he said softly, "The tough girl act doesn't fool me anymore. It can fool other people, but not me."

Elle rolled onto her back, looked at the ceiling. There was a hairline crack in it. "Aaron was right," she said. "I am a killer. I decided to kill that guy, and I didn't feel bad about it, and if I could go back and do it again, I wouldn't change it. I'd do the same thing for the same reason. So he was right." Because she could say it now, admit to Spencer what she hadn't admitted to anyone else since the day she'd shot William Lee to death. Reid was the only one who deserved to know the truth, the only one who had earned the right.

He studied her in profile, lying on his side on the damp sheet. Did he love her? Probably. He wasn't the sort who could be intimate with a woman without feeling something other than lust, and whether she knew it or not, her courage and strength had already knocked him on his ass. She could have chased him away when he first re-appeared, and she hadn't. She'd invited him into her life and into her home, and eventually into her bed. Allowing him to reclaim himself. It wasn't gratitude. Gratitude was shallow, fleeting. He was grateful as well, but it went deeper than that.

"So now what?"

"I don't know, Spencer. I won't try to keep you here. I knew when I started this that you'd have to go, and I doubt that's changed. When it's time for you to leave, I won't cling."

He slid across the mattress towards her, and she turned to face him. His arms went around her, and he pulled her against his chest. She locked her hands together at the base of his spine. Part of her couldn't bear the thought of this ending, but she knew that when it did she would let go without complaint. Once he was strong enough, he would leave, and she would kiss him goodbye without regret. 

She hoped _she_ was strong enough by then.


	13. Chapter 13

When the day came for Spencer to leave, Elle cooked him a big breakfast and they are together in the kitchen. His suitcases were packed and sitting in the hallway. They'd spent thirty minutes looking for his left shoe because Maxie had hidden it under the couch. She'd made a lame joke about how the dog didn't want him to leave, and he'd laughed and scratched the animal's ears. 

It would be bittersweet to see him go, but she had promised him - and herself - that she wouldn't try to keep him there, and that she wouldn't pine once he left. He had a life and a career waiting for him, and he was fit to return to it now. They had made each other stronger, healed old wounds. She would miss him, but she wasn't going to cling.

Spencer was conflicted. He knew he was in good enough shape to return to work, and he'd made a formal phone call to Aaron the night before to that effect, but he didn't know what would happen tomorrow, or next week. What if he left the safety of this cocoon and the roof caved in again? What if he never saw Elle again? He plowed through his breakfast with nervous energy, washing down the food with coffee. 

They lingered over cleaning up the dishes, but it was a stalling tactic. She'd offered to drive him to the airport. It was an hour and a half's drive to Sante Fe. She didn't mind using up the gas.

"We should get going. You're gonna miss your flight if we don't leave soon."

Elle locked up the house, and he put his bags in the trunk, then climbed into the passenger's seat. The day was hot. He'd put his watch back on. The pale spot on his wrist had turned semi-brown. She got behind the wheel, turned on the air conditioner. 

The drive passed mostly in silence, and Spencer turned on the radio at a low volume to fill the pauses. His inner conflict was growing. He knew his reluctance to give this up was partly because of Maeve, but it went further than that. He wasn't trying to make Elle fit that mold. There would never be another Maeve, and he still regretted not ever knowing what might have been if she had lived. He looked sideways at the woman beside him, felt something undefinable.

The former profiler was hanging on to her resolve. She would sleep alone tonight, and then tomorrow she would go on with her life. The well of her bitterness had run dry, filled stone by stone by Spencer's presence. She wasn't being noble. She wasn't sure she was _capable_ of being noble. But she would let him go, and she wouldn't cry over it. This had been a wonderful time, and he'd helped her regain a piece of herself that had been lost for a long time. 

She pulled the car into the pay lot, and they studied each other. "Walk you inside?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

The inside of the terminal was almost too cold, and she carried one of his bags while he carried the other. People milled around. They checked the board for his flight information after putting his luggage on the conveyor belt, then went to have a seat while they waited for the announcement. Their hands were close, and he touched her fingers.

"I'm gonna miss you."

It was the first time she'd admitted it, and he smiled. "I'll miss you too. I know it pissed you off when I showed up out of nowhere, and you didn't have to ever talk to me, but I'm glad you did. It gave me something that I needed, so...well...thanks."

"You helped me too," she said, and now she was holding his hand. His palm was warm against hers. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you at first. You reminded me of things I didn't want to remember. I'm sorry if I hurt you or made you feel bad."

He wanted to kiss the back of her hand, but it might have made things too emotional. Elle had never been the sentimental type, and he was willing to go along with her moratorium on mushy stuff. He didn't know if there was a realistic chance of it, but if he made her cry in the eleventh hour, she'd never forgive him.

They sat in silence, watching people flow past them. The seconds ticking by on his watch seemed very loud. A voice on the PA called the departure time for his flight. Spencer took a deep breath, and he and Elle got to their feet. He didn't know how to say goodbye.

She took his other hand, squeezed them both gently. "Have a great life, Spencer." she said softly. "Be happy. You've earned it."

He bent down, the height difference making it impossible to kiss her without doing so. His lips brushed her forehead, and then he was kissing her mouth. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. He straightened up. She felt a thousand things at once.

Her hands came up, and she undid the leather thong around her neck, saying, "Keep this. I want you to have it. I bought it for luck when I landed here, and I think it worked." She pressed the turquoise pendant into Spencer's palm, and he looked at it before making eye contact. Then he tied it into place around his neck, the blue stone coming to rest on his white shirt. He kissed her again. It sucked all the breath out of her lungs. The PA crackled, and the damned voice announced the departure time again.

"You should go." Elle had dropped her hands to her sides. She wouldn't cling to him. She'd promised.

Spencer took several steps backwards, bumped into someone, apologized absently. He was going to miss his plane. His life, his future, was waiting for him.

" _Elle_."

She turned, and he was striding towards her. His hands took hers firmly. "I don't want this to be over. I know I have to go back, but I don't...I don't want to lose you."

Her expression brightened, and she tried to pull back. "I told you, Reid, I'm not going to let you tie yourself to me. I..."

"Let me?" he asked, looking down into her eyes. "I thought you knew me better than that by now, If you _want_ me to go and not look back, then I'll do that. But I think we should give this a chance, see what happens."

"Long-distance relationships don't work."

"You don't know that. You've never tried one with me."

It would have been easy to tell him to get the hell on that plane and go home, but there _was_ a small part of her that wanted to take the risk. It had been a risk to be intimate with him in the first place, to take him to bed as if they had forever. The only reason she hadn't mentioned taking things further once he went back to Quantico was because she'd been unwilling to be seen as grasping. Her mouth quirked reluctantly.

"It's a long way to Virginia."

"Only when you're driving. On a plane, it doesn't take that long."

Elle was cupping his face now, and it was such a cliche, a last-minute declaration at an airport, but she was thinking about it. Sometimes you _wanted_ the cliche. The third and final call came over the loudspeaker.

"What about Hotch?"

Spencer shook his head. "He'll get over it. And if he doesn't, that's his choice. You're not what he said. No matter what you think."

She breathed deep, exhaled slowly. "You have my phone number at home. Call me when you get settled. We'll talk about it." She couldn't promise anything, not right then, but where hope existed, there were possibilities. Her fingers tugged on his hair, and she pulled his mouth down to hers for a quick kiss. Not 'goodbye', just 'see you later'.

He beamed when the kiss broke. "I better go, before they leave without me." He stepped away from her slowly, and she smiled at him. They'd brought Technicolor back into each other's lives, and if they could come to an agreement, they could continue to have what they'd found.

An oasis, a safe place. Together.


End file.
